


Philophobia

by adlerty



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Chemical Defects, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Love, Love Confessions, Mind Palace, POV Irene, Post-A Scandal in Belgravia, Role Reversal, Sassy John, Sentimental, Sentimental Sherlock, Sex, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adlerty/pseuds/adlerty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A study in sentiment by the hand of the great consulting detective: Irene Adler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Philophobia

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here I am again with a little entry for the [Second 'Ladies of Sherlock' Challenge (November): _Career Day_](http://ladiesofsherlock.tumblr.com/NovemberChallenge).
> 
>  
> 
> This is a fic where Irene Adler takes the role of _the consulting detective_ and Sherlock Holmes is _The Man_. At least that was what I tried to explain here.

When John entered the room, the only noise which could be heard was my heavy breath. He found me lying on my back over the carpet, in the middle of the living room. I had my eyes closed but I could feel his tension and nervousness in the way he caught his breath as he went into.

 

“For God’s sake, Irene… Could you… Just… Get dressed?”

 

Was I naked? I opened my eyes and looked at my body. Oh, I _was_ naked.

 

“Why? Does it bother you?”

 

“Of course it bothers me!” he answered, avoiding looking at me. “I hate it when you wander around the flat or simply stay stark naked… It’s… It’s…. Oh my God, cover up!”

 

I stood up and remained in front of him. John puffed and went to the kitchen. At least he had bought the milk.

 

“Irrelevant… I don’t understand why it bothers you. This is my home and I can stay naked if I want to…” I shouted from the living room.

 

“And it’s my home as well!” He returned to the room and looked at the ceiling. “Irene Adler, please. Just, for once, pay attention when I say something and get dressed!”

 

I rolled my eyes and went to my bedroom. I looked for my robe, but when I found it thrown over the chair, I discovered it was full of some strange substance… Then I remembered I was wearing it while analysing the exact eight types of glue that could have killed a little girl four days ago. I sighed in annoyance and ripped the sheet from the bed in order to cover my body.

 

“You’re sometimes too childish to be _the only-one-in-the-world consulting detective_ …” he almost shouted.

 

“Mmm… And you’re a bit of an impertinent, Watson.”

 

When I returned to the living room John had _his_ mobile in his hands.

 

“What are you doing?” I spat as I stopped on a dime.

 

“This is his mobile, isn’t it? You still keep it.”

 

“Yes, you saw me keeping it,” I said coldly, reaching out my hand.

 

John left the phone over my hand and smirked slightly.

 

“What were you doing with it when I arrived?”

 

“Thinking.”

 

I kept the mobile phone in the drawer and sprawled in my couch. As I did, my breasts were exposed to his sight, but I did not care. John did not seem to care any more as well, because he did not complain.

 

“You were thinking…” he muttered as he sat down on his couch as well. “ _Of him_?”

 

“Why should I be thinking of him? We’ve got three cases which need to be solved. I have better things to think about…”

 

“You were lying naked on the floor with his mobile between your hands… But no, you _weren’t_ thinking of him…”

 

He chuckled as I shot him an angry look. I preferred not to answer; I would allow him to think whatever he wanted.

 

I decided to ignore him for the rest of the day. I got lost in my Mind Palace. I tried to get rid of his image in my mind. One attempt, two attempts, three attempts. _Impossible._ John was right, I had been thinking of him, and his memory in my mind hurt with an unbearable strength. When I realised that I could not rid of him, I gave in. I found myself thinking of him, of his curly and dark and smooth hair, of his deep blue eyes, of his sharp cheekbones and his bittersweet lips. Of his incredible intellect. He was clever, of course he was. He had been the only man who ever had attracted my attention, and it had been first because of his brilliant mind. His physical was worthy of being eulogised, but what I like the most was the way he had been scandalising the whole nation with his mind and his sex. Him, the great Sherlock Holmes. _The Man_ , the only one who mattered.

 

The images of the day we first met in his flat came to my mind and they made me smile. How he dared to straddle my lap, completely naked, how he drugged me and hit me with his whip. The day he made me think he was dead and how it hurt when he contacted John to recover his mobile phone and I found out that he did not want to tell me. The one he appeared sleeping in my bed. The day I discovered the password of his mobile phone. _My name_. He had used my name. Quite foolish on his behalf. _I’ve always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage… Thank you for the final proof._ My heart stung at the memory of my own words. That was why I saved him, because I felt guilty of throwing him on hands of the ones who wanted him dead. Suddenly the image of myself with a Muslim gown and a dagger in my hands appeared, followed of our bodies running across Karachi and finding a good – but not the best – hiding place to pass the night: a small room in a grotty hostel. I smiled at the thought of him breathing heavily, looking at me with those perfect eyes of his and muttering repeatedly _You’ve just saved me…_ , as if he was not utterly conscious of what had happened. Then it came to my mind the image of him kissing me slowly and exquisitely, adrenaline in our bloodstreams, his gentle hands on my hips, his warm naked body against mine, and his sharp breaths while doing it to me softly. He had been respectful, gentle and patient. It hurt, after all I was quite the virgin, but it was annoyingly wonderful, as they were the next three days we passed together in Budapest. It had passed almost a year since that night, and I still could remember the smell of his salty sweat, feel the taste of his mouth on my tongue and touch the warmth of his body with my hands.

 

I was drawing his figure with my fingers in the air when I opened my eyes sharply, startled for the sound of a laughter; a laughter I had registered in my mind a long time ago. I looked over the room and found him sat on the couch in front of me. It was approximately midnight and the only light that illuminated the room was the fire in the hearth, which I obviously had not lit.

 

He stood up and kneeled in front of me. I looked at him bewildered, my hands still up high, trying not to show any expression with my face.

 

“You can’t just be more beautiful than you are,” he purred, sex in his voice.

 

He caressed the bare skin between my breasts with a cold finger, which made me shiver.

 

“How long have you been there?” I asked slowly.

 

“A long, long time, Miss Adler…”

 

I looked again at my surroundings. I had been lost in my Mind Palace for hours.

 

“Has John seen you?”

 

“No, I waited until he left. The doctor doesn’t seem to sleep here tonight…”

 

I raised an eyebrow and covered my body with the sheet. I felt very exposed, which was rather strange, because he had seen me naked before.

 

“What are you doing here, Mister Holmes?” I finally asked after a long moment.

 

“I was bored in Edinburgh and decided to come and visit you,” he answered as he stood up and started wandering around the room.

 

“You can’t be here. Someone may have seen you.”

 

He smiled softly and walked to me again.

 

“But I was curious. I… I need to now, Miss Adler.”

 

I frowned at his words and stood up. Why was I that nervous?

 

“I need to know,” he continued, “if you are as curious as I am, but I think you are far more…”

 

For the first time in my life I had no idea of what he was talking about. I looked at him and he caressed my cheek slowly. His hand was warm. I hated craving him so much with that simple gesture. That man had got to inhibit my brain when he was around me. I could stare at him and could not deduce _anything_. It was frustrating.

 

He seemed to read the bewilderment on my face because he grabbed my waist and laughed softly.

 

“Let’s have dinner,” he suggested, his tone low and baritone and sexy.

 

I raised my eyebrows and placed one hand on his chest, stroking slowly the fabric of his purple shirt.

 

“You’ve already got that, or it was so trivial to you that you have forgotten it?” I purred.

 

“Oh, Miss Adler… Your insinuation hurts…” he said as the expression on his face feigned pain. “I won’t never forget those days we spend together. Simply for the fact that nobody had never allowed me to fuck them like seventeen times in a period of three days, almost without resting…”

 

I felt how my cheeks blushed instantly at the thought of us having intercourse non-stop in that luxurious hotel room in Budapest – which made me create a list of places where you can have sex instead of the bed, like on the floor, leaning over the sink, in the bath, on the chest of drawers, against the wall, which I loved the most – and because of the anger I felt at the evidence that he would remember those days just because we _fucked_ a lot, not for the fact the person he fucked was _me_ and not another one.

 

“Hadn’t you enough that time, then?” I spat.

 

I removed his hands from my waist and moved apart. I walked to the fireplace and I saw him by the mirror staring at me with his brow furrowed.

 

“I’ve missed you, _Irene_.”

 

It was the first time he used my first name and it made shiver. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could have deduced by the tone of his voice when he said the words if he was lying, but I just limited me to believe him. Some part of me wanted him to miss me, to crave me, to desire me. _To love me._

 

He walked to me and hugged me from behind. I leaned my head in his shoulder, and unconsciously I felt how my body relaxed.

 

“And I was curious if you’ve been missing me as well…” he whispered in my ear.

 

I moaned when I felt his breath so close to me, immediately shutting my mouth and covering it with the back of my hand.

 

“What do you want, Sherlock?” I finally said after a long moment.

 

“I want you,” he answered, no hesitation in his response.

 

I turned around and looked straight into his eyes.

 

“I need you, I want you to entertain me,” he continued.

 

“I thought that was your job, _to entertain_ those who can afford it,” I muttered, visibly annoyed.

 

“No, no, please… Don’t misunderstand me…” What was that? For a brief moment he seemed weak. He cleared his throat – and his mind as well – and decided to continue. “You appear in my mind constantly and I don’t feel like getting rid of your image in my mind, because the thought of you makes me feel comfortable and… And my life now is boring and I only think of you and I need you to distract me, to give me a reason to keep living…”

 

I frowned at his last words and I saw him rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, showing me the small scars on his wrists. I placed my hands on them, covering the wounds, and looked into his eyes again.

 

“Why?” I murmured.

 

“Because I realised that you are the _only_ person who is worth it in this awful life.”

 

My world trembled before his words. _Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side._ No, no, not now. My heart stung again and I closed the eyes in pain. If a man like him, if _The Man_ could give in to sentiment, why could not I be able to give in, too? Since I met him I started to doubt if I was the insensitive and incapable-of-loving person that everyone thought I was, and to tell the truth he made me feel warm and strangely comfortable, and he had demonstrated that he was worth of my love. Because that was what I felt, love. _Love /l_ _ʌ_ _v/ ~~verb~~ , noun 1. an intense emotion off affection, warmth, fondness and regard towards a person or thing. 2. a deep feeling of sexual attraction and desire. _The theory was quite clear to me; the problem was to put it in practise. But I wanted to give in as well. If sentiment implied losing, I was willing to lose by his hand.

 

I put on my toes and kissed him slightly over his lips. That had obviously caught him off guard, but he soon reacted and pulled me towards him so tight, and I dared to kiss him again, shyly. He did not lead the kiss, he allowed me to get used to the taste of his lips, those ones I had been longing for, without being conscious, for a long, long time. After a while I was kissing him with both passion and fervour. I slipped the sheet from my body and broke the kiss for a moment.

 

“So you do want me?” he asked, fearing the answer.

 

I smiled and nodded, and he leaped on me in order to hug me. I tangled my fingers with his hair and heard how he moaned at the touch. He nuzzled the curve of my neck and I moaned as well. I felt so comfortable in his big arms…

 

“What do you want me to do, Sherlock?” I whispered, because it was true, I did not know what to do or say. Everything was so new…

 

“I want you to love me,” he said, looking into my eyes.

 

I smiled and saw how his eyes were completely dark, and they were both beautiful and mysterious in the light of the fire.

 

“Next,” I said smirking.

 

“Next?”

 

I laughed lowly at the way he frowned.

 

“I do already love you, so tell me. What’s next?”

 

I noticed how he held his breath and dug his hands on my waist.

 

“Could you repeat it, please?” he said, a pleasant smile in his face, his eyes brilliant.

 

I gave him a sweet kiss and stared into his eyes.

 

“I love you, _my Man.”_

 

He exhaled soundly and hugged me again. I could not help but laugh. It felt rather strange but lovely how those three words sounded in my mouth, those ones I had never said to anyone, and the same ones nobody had ever said to me.

 

“Oh dear, I love you, _my consulting detective_.”

 

I hugged him back, tightly, so tightly, because I did not want to separate from him. I ran my hand across his torso and realised that he was still dressed. I started to unbutton his shirt as he kissed me again. I moaned in his mouth when he took me in his arms and led the way to my bedroom. He threw me onto the bed and continued kissing me. His hands ran across my body with determination and affection. I bit his collarbone not to moan as he caressed slightly my clitoris. I knew it would leave mark, but I hoped he did not complain.

 

“Are you going to make me beg for mercy twice again?” I asked pleasant.

 

“No, my mistress,” he responded, laughing loudly.

 

“Maybe tie me up to the bed and hit me with one of your leather whips?”

 

“Neither…” He stared into my eyes. “Tonight’s going to be just me and you making _love_ …”

 

I licked my lips and allowed him to kiss me. His tongue went over my mouth, entangling with mine. I continued unbuttoning his shirt, but I ripped it in anticipation. The buttons rattled on the floor.

 

“You’re in the mood,” he whispered against my mouth.

 

“Clearly…”

 

A few moments later he was completely naked. He kissed my mouth, my jaw, my neck, and straightaway started to go down, drawing a wet trail down my breasts, my stomach, stopping on my pubic bone and caressing the small hairs he found. He looked at me as he exhaled his hot breath against my sex. I saw his intentions and crossed my legs quickly.

 

“What happens? I thought you liked it…” he said, almost in a childish tone.

 

I laughed and sat up a little. He frowned and I caressed his cheek slowly.

 

“You were right, Sherlock… You’re so giving, and I’m very, very curious.”

 

I pushed him and he lay on his back. He rested his weight in his forearms and watched me. I stroked him, slowly, and I noticed how good it felt the coldness of my hand with the warmth of his erection. I looked at him, asking for help. I remembered the advises my “friends” at University gave to each other about giving that kind of pleasure to a man, but I wanted to do it the way he wanted it. I was new in that field and I hoped he was comprehending with me. He sat up and grabbed my hand on his member and moved them up and down. I continued stoking it, finding a rhythm I thought it was pleasurable to him, and then I decided on and leaned down. I started to kiss and make circles with my tongue around the head, and he dropped over the bed, moaning and swearing and digging his fingers in the mattress. Later I started to introduce his length deep in my mouth and I made him moan loudly and it was great. I loved the way I was making him feel, even I felt a bit proud. I sucked him so that he was hitting the back of my throat and I knew it was obscene but I really wanted to make him come. It did not take a long time, he warned me he was about to come, and he even tried to make me shift, but I continued. He pulled my hair up in a tail with his hands and screamed in pleasure as I felt his warm cum filling my mouth. I looked at him as I swallowed, and he cleaned the corner of my lips with his thumb and introduced into my mouth. He was blushed and sweating and could not breath with easiness.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that, love…” he whispered.

 

I shrugged and he hugged me. Then he made me lie on my back.

 

“Now I’m going to finish what I wanted to start.”

 

I smiled and soon felt his tongue playing between my legs. And it was the best sensation ever. He started slowly, but he finished licking me with hunger and I could say even with ire by the way he was fingering me, so fast that it even hurt. But I did not care. I felt the orgasm coming from my stomach to my mouth in waves, and I screamed, holding his hair tight, blind of pleasure. He remained there a long time until I calmed myself, kissing and biting softly my inner thighs and breathing heavily. Then he kneeled over the bed and grabbed my legs tightly, moving me closer to him. He rubbed his length against my wetness a few times before introducing it. When he did it, he leaned down and kissed me sweetly. He got a rhythm that it was both soft and hard, and I did not want that moment to finish. I memorized everything: the pain caused by his hands, digging with strength in my hips; the times he bit my lower lip when I scratched his back in pleasure; the way his pale skin and darkened eyes shone with the moonlight; the rhythm of his hips thrusting into me that could be compared with a perfect melody; his mouth next to my ear whispering he wanted me to come for him; how his face relaxed as we both reached the climax, together, moaning and shivering and feeling weak.

 

I just remember him lying next to me, caressing my side slowly, with a beautiful, pleasant smile on his lips. He was handsome to a fault. I stared at him for a long, long time. He kissed me softly and hugged me tight.

 

“I love you, Irene,” he whispered in a calm tone.

 

I caressed his hair and kissed him back.

 

“And I you, too, Sherlock…”

 

He kissed my forehead and remained there, his arms around my chest, my head resting in his shoulder. I could hear his heartbeat and it was the most relaxing thing on earth. Gradually, both of us fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

“Irene!”

 

I woke up startled. It was John.

 

“Irene! Where are you?”

 

He burst into my room and frowned at the image of me lying on my stomach, completely naked, before looking away. I raised my head, trying to look at him, my eyes almost closed.

 

“What…” I purred in a sleepy voice as I turned my head to my right, where his body was meant to be. But he was not there.

 

I did not notice when he left, but I remembered me dreaming about him giving me a kiss on my forehead and leaving. Perhaps it was not a dream.

 

“When did you fall asleep?” he asked.

 

I was not still conscious about what was happening. I had barely slept a few hours and I was exhausted and pained.

 

“What do you want, John?”

 

“It’s Lestrade. He wants us in fifteen minutes in Scotland Yard. C’mon, get dressed. I’ll prepare you a coffee.”

 

He left the room and I groaned. I sat up and looked at my body. I had bruises in my waist, hips and upper thighs. They stung when I touched them, but they made me smile. But soon my smiled faded when I realised I did not know when I was going to see him again. I stood up on the floor, and as I did, I saw something under the pillow. It was a piece of paper. The letter had a perfect calligraphy, but the note had been written in a rush.

_John has already arrived so I’m going to slip out the window. I would have sent you a message, but I don’t know if you have deleted that text alarm I chose exclusively for you – I don’t want Doctor Watson to hear it and deduce I’m alive. Thank you for this beautiful night, you definitely gave me the reason to keep living. Well, you are the reason. We’ll meet up soon, my lovely detective. I depart with the taste of you in my mouth and the image of your beautiful sleepy face in my mind. I hope you love this night as much as I do. You make me feel like nobody ever has had. I love you so much, Irene Adler. I really love you._

I closed my eyes and sighed. He loved me, I loved him. And I was going to miss him so much.

 

John called me from the kitchen, hurrying me up.

 

Now it was the time to come back to real life, where I had to solve cases and he hid from the world. Now it was the time to learn how deal with my heart and my mind, whose owner of both of them was him. He, the only one that had gotten to beat me, the only one that had ever loved me. The only man who mattered. _The Man._

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I would say I'm sorry for the explicit sex scene, but I am not. And second, I tried to set up a link between the title and the story itself by an antithesis. That's all. Thank you so much for reading, dearies.


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